


Building Bridges

by Selah Grace (ohselah)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Neville Longbottom, Character Death, Coming of Age, Confident Neville, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s), Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohselah/pseuds/Selah%20Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville Longbottom goes through a long journey of self-discovery in order to find true confidence in his abilities. He finds a new love, makes some new friends, and fights some old battles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building Bridges

It was strange to see his Gran dressed in plain green robes, without her distinctive scarf and hat; and her face was unusually pale for such a strong woman. She had become ill after visiting some old friends in West Yorkshire. Using her copy of _Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions_ , Gran had diagnosed herself with the frigots and spent the last few days resting in bed, drinking water, and eating dried toast. After watching her sleep, with her chest moving up and down at a normal pace and the lack of snoring, Neville could tell that she was better. He could imagine her in a couple of hours; her face would pinch with irritation and Gran would walk straight up to the fireplace and use her Floo to contact Bonnie Icklebottom, who would listen patiently as Gran lectured her on the consequences of unkempt houses. In fact, Neville was looking forward to hearing the exchange after his Gran suffered like that. Besides, Neville thought the woman _could_ benefit from learning a cleaning charm or two.  
  
His Gran was a determined woman and Neville was positive that she could beat death if she wanted to, but she was no doubt eager to meet God and give him that list of complaints she kept in her journal. Neville would be certain to tie that list to the lilies he would lay on her grave, though he knew that wouldn't be for a long time. Gran vowed she would be alive until her family had peace and no one would dare make his Gran a liar.  
  
Neville leant over the bed and kissed her on the cheek. "Good night, Gran." His birthday was tomorrow, so Neville hoped she would at least feel better for his party. His friends—the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and Luna—were coming and he was so excited that his stomach was bubbling with it!  
  
\----------------------------------------  
  
"Neville! Neville, you silly boy, wake up!" Two raps on Neville's head and his resulting groan followed Gran's waking cries. "It is noon, and that loony girl is here, blathering on about some razor-footed something-or-others. Get up and take care of that girl!"  
  
Neville grumbled and forced himself to sit up, staring sleepily at his grandmother. "You're back," he said, smiling. "Her name is Luna Lovegood, Gran. Her dad owns _The Quibbler_." His Gran stared back at him with eyes as sharp as the razors on those something-or-others' feet. "I—I—well, I'll get right to that then!" Neville grimaced as soon as he was in the lounge. He was glad Gran was back to her strong self, but she could _still_ make him stutter like that.  
  
His eyes caught sight of blond hair, standing out against the bland mixture mixtures of mahogany and cedar browns, immediately. "Luna!" Neville hugged her tightly and smiled. "Did you bring your pyjamas?" Gran had been amiable to his idea of his friends sleeping over, much to his excitement, though she was adamant about his friends having their own sleepwear.  
  
"Of course, Neville. The vulture told me it would eat me otherwise." Luna smiled at him and Neville felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. She was his friend, she was _here_ , and it felt _wonderful_. "Your Gran doesn't like me too much, though." Shivers coursed down his spine as he stared into the old eyes that looked into him—into his very soul. Her eyes were too old—wise, beyond her years—and Neville could liken them to Dumbledore's, despite the pangs his stomach received when thinking about his mentor's death. Truth, wisdom, experience. Twinkling. Luna's smile was back. "I won't bother with her; there are much better discoveries and adventures to be discussed. Have I ever told you about the razor-footed flibbleflabs?" She bounced close to him, obviously too excited to sit still. Neville shook his head. "Oh! There's so much for you to learn then! If I haven't told you about the flibbleflabs, what else are you missing out on?"  
  
And that one-sided, brain-clawing, yet oddly fascinating, conversation continued for more than an hour before the other guests arrived. Neville had never been so relieved to see Fred and George in his entire life.  
  
\----------------------------------------  
  
  
The entire house was in chaos and after the storm passed, Gran was going to _kill_ him. "Stop it! Stop this ruckus, you freckled hellions!" Fred and George were chasing each other around the house, both armed with a can of Wet Willy's Wonder. The name of the product itself struck revulsion and fear into the heart of Neville's guests, not counting the culprits using it; however, no one quite knew what it was doing to the twins. It was a mysterious, though it _had_ to be horrible if Gran was having such a fit over it. Ginny, Hermione, and Luna were huddled in one corner of the room, doing whatever it was girls did with each other; Ron and Harry were watching the spectacle with him; and finally, there was Bill and Charlie, who settled for standing and talking quietly in the _other_ corner in the absence of their respective significant others, Fleur and Anna. (Anna was, as Mrs Weasley described her, "a delightful, young witch whom Charlie brought home for the holiday.")  
  
Harry grinned at Neville. "One hell of a birthday party, isn't it?"  
  
Neville shook his head and shrugged. "Harry, you _really_ don't know my family. I mean, Great Uncle Algie is even worse than Fred and George on his own! We're an eccentric bunch, I'm afraid, and Gran has put up with a lot more than a few broken vases…" Neville paused as he watched one of the stands disappear. "And disappearing furniture," he finished with a cringe.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The furniture is disappearing, Potter." Gran looked at Harry with disdain. "What does it _look_ like? Those _ruffians_ sprayed the furniture, instead of each other. It has no nasty side effects like that on wizards, but it makes all inanimate objects disappear." She pinched the bridge of her nose and glared at the twins. "Come on, you demons, follow me. _You_ are going to help me fix this mess!" Gran led the twins away by their ears—their cries of "ow, ow, ouch" following their departure.  
  
"Looks like the twins aren't going to have much fun."  
  
"No. With Gran, it will be absolutely _miserable_."  
  
"Fred and George deserve it. It's not as if the Weasleys are too hard on them, especially if you've seen Mr Weasley with them." Harry stood, cleared his throat, and looked at Neville with delight. "'Oh, you've managed to...' Mrs Weasley will glare dreadfully at him. 'Oh, ah… Well, that was simply _horrid_ of you. Go to your room this instant!'"  
  
Neville grinned. "The Weasleys can't be too strict, but I'd definitely watch out for Mrs Weasley and those Howlers." He shuddered. "She has a right set of lungs."  
  
"Yeah," he laughed. "Mrs Weasley means well, but she jumps to conclusions sometimes or will go out of her way, trying to protect her kids."  
  
"Gran is the same. She is harsh and critical because she wants to make us better people. 'If you want to be an Auror,' Gran said once, 'you'll have to be more than a bumbling fool. Find the balance, coordinate your attacks and you will improve.'"  
  
Neville closed his eyes and his mind drifted backwards through his memory. Enclosed in the wards of their home at the beginning of the summer, Neville continued the training he had endured in the DA meetings. His Gran was stricter than Harry was, but she had decades of training to guide her in the right direction. He would never trade those moments with his Gran, because, although the degrading comments outweighed them, Neville had received more compliments from his Gran in those few months than he had received in his entire life. Neville knew those compliments brought him closer to Gran, even if she didn't feel the same; he knew she loved him now.  
  
"… not funny, Neville; you need to answer! Come on. Talk to me!"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just thinking about earlier this summer." Harry looked at him with curiosity and Neville smiled. "Well, Gran trained me after I went home from school and told her about the meetings. She was, uh… impressed with how you handled it and how much I'd improved." He poured all of his gratitude into that statement. Harry was an important part of his life.  
  
"Neville," Harry started and chewed on his lower lip. He didn't need to say anything because Neville could understand.  
  
"Well, how about following me to the kitchen? I'm sure you're hungry."  
  
"Mrs Weasley—"  
  
"I don't care. Follow me."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Neville led Harry to the kitchen. Several house elves popped into place and looked up at their master with large, green eyes. One of the more ridiculous-looking elves came forward and asked, "How wills Schooner to be serving Master Neville?"  
  
"Prepare an assortment of fruit and sweets for us to enjoy, Schooner." Assuming different tones for his house elves was difficult, but Gran had taught him that as well. Showing dominance was an important connection between elves and wizards; if that connection were abused or unused, the house elf would resent its master. Neville turned towards Harry, who was looking at him with a strange expression that puzzled him, and laughed nervously. "What?"  
  
"I've never seen you talk like that."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I've never really heard you boss someone around. You never stood up to people much, even though; well, you definitely _can_ stand up to us." Harry grinned, remembering when Neville had stood up to them in their first year.  
  
"Not anymore, then," Neville said. "I'm not the same person I was five years ago, Harry. I used to be just Neville or Longbottom; now I'm _Neville Longbottom_." Saying them aloud, without his mental reasoning behind them, his words sounded childish and petulant. Neville looked into Harry's eyes and pleaded silently for him to understand.  
  
He did. Harry's eyes lit up with comprehension and guilt, though Neville couldn't understand what the latter was for. "All I've ever wanted to be was Harry." Harry looked down at the floor and chewed on his lip. "You should have been the hero, Neville. You're the one that deserves, and wants it."  
  
Neville never realised how much Harry hated the fame of his infantile heroics; oh, he knew he didn't like or approve of it, but the vehemence behind his feelings was greater than Neville had imagined. Beyond the Boy-Who-Lived and the famous Harry Potter, there was Harry—and that's all Harry wanted to be. "You'll always be just Harry to me, then."  
  
Schooner arrived with a basket of fruits after several silence-filled minutes of waiting. Their silence wasn't an awkward one; instead, Neville filled his minutes watching Harry, who seemed lost in his thoughts. Luna often wore that same expression on her face. Neville never had too much of an active imagination, but he spent a lot of his time thinking about his past. He imagined Harry focused more on the future, and Luna would dream about nargles and flab-footed razors or something. He grabbed an apple and bit into it; the loud crunching sound snapped Harry from his trance, and Neville smiled. "Looks like you get lost sometimes, too," Neville said casually as he bit into another piece of his apple. "Interested in sharing?" he asked.  
  
Harry shook his head. "I don't think so." He reached above the basket, looking for something enticing, and settled for a banana and a pear. Inspecting his banana for brown spots, he smiled with satisfaction as he noted it was perfectly yellow. "Are these made from magic?" Harry pulled the peel off and threw it into a magical rubbish bin a few meters away.  
  
"The bananas aren't made from magic, but the house elves get them with their magic. After all, they can get them with a snap of their fingers," he explained. Gran didn't want inorganic fruit in her house, but she had never explained why. Neville didn't mind at all; real fruit tasted fantastic to him. "I think—"  
  
"Master Neville must leave now!" Schooner popped up as he pushed the basket into Harry's hand. Utter chaos broke out in the back of the kitchen, and Harry grasped it as he heard the ear-splitting cries of Neville's house elves. "Master Neville's big day, it is, it is! And elves has to prepare!"  
  
Grinning at his elf's bossiness, Neville nodded. "You're right, Schooner. I wouldn't want to danger a guest, would I?" He winked at Harry. "It gets pretty hectic in here when the house elves are planning something. Come on," he ordered and lead him back into the living room.  
  
Ron strode right up to them and patted Neville on the back. "Neville, buddy… Can I speak to you—," he pushed Neville across the room, "over here?"  
  
Neville looked at him strangely. "Since I'm already over here, I suppose you can, Ron. What do you want?" He glanced back at Harry, who was watching them curiously. He didn't know what Ron wanted either.  
  
Ron crossed his arms and glared. "I'm not crazy. Mum just wanted us to ask you a favour. You know tomorrow is Harry's birthday, right?" Neville nodded. "Well, we were wondering if you could let Harry stay in your room with you. I know you have plenty of rooms; don't say anything, but we could make up some stupid excuse." There would be no problem with that, of course. "The rest of us need to get out without waking him up, so we're going to make some excuse to double up the rooms," he explained urgently.  
  
"I'm sure we can do that. We'll just tell him the rooms are being renovated, and he can't stay in them until they're done. He doesn't know how magical remodelling works, after all." Neville shook his head and asked, "But why do you have to sneak out without him?"  
  
"Mum wants us to help decorate the Burrow. We're going to give him the best birthday he's ever had because he's never had a real party. After what happened to Sirius, we need to give him something he'll never forget." Ron shifted at his own mention of the Department of Mysteries. "I think we could all use some entertainment, yeah?"  
  
Neville nodded sadly. He had almost forgotten about his little adventure in the Department of Mysteries; his two-month training session with Gran had lasted forever in his mind. He didn't realise just how soon afterwards it still was. Neville glanced backwards at Harry again and sighed. How could Harry keep in such high spirits so soon after losing his godfather?  
  
"That's all I wanted," Ron whispered. He walked back over to Harry, who raised an eyebrow expectantly. "I just wanted to, uh, congratulate him on turning sixteen!" Harry didn't look convinced but nodded anyway.  
  
"All right, Ron. Whatever you say," he muttered. "What's wrong, Neville?"  
  
Fidgeting, Neville gaped at Harry and tapped his toes nervously. He wasn't that good at lying. "Well, as I was just telling Ron, we're going to have to share rooms. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind sleeping with me. I—I mean, in my room."  
  
Harry blinked. "I don't mind at all. It's fine, but why do we need to sleep together?"  
  
He twitched at Harry's choice of words, but he gathered his composure like his Gran taught him. "We're remodelling most of the rooms, and only a few of them are done. So we're doubling up the bedrooms. I think only Luna is getting her own room, and Gran doesn't want any of the boys and girls sleeping together, you know. She's old-fashioned, my Gran."  
  
"Don't worry, Neville," Harry said as he smiled at him. "I'd like to stay with you."  
  
"Oh, good," Neville replied and chuckled. "I think it's about time—"  
  
"There's my boy!" A large, booming male voice echoed through the living room. Neville froze as a shrill shriek followed his great uncle's shout.  
  
"Neville Longbottom, get over here and give your Great Auntie Enid a big kiss!"  
  
"—for the family to arrive," he finished, looking despondently at Harry. His family wasn't big, but Neville was positive it couldn't be more hectic at the Weasley get-togethers. His great aunt and uncle surrounded him, and Neville suffocated between his great uncle's hefty body and his great aunt's rather large breasts. "I need to breathe," Neville complained and squeezed out of their death grip.  
  
"Oh, happy birthday, sweetheart! It's so great to see you well, and you're getting stronger too. I can tell just by looking at you!"  
  
Great Uncle Algie rolled his eyes. "Augusta told us she was training you, son. It's great to see that you're building some confidence. You'll make your family proud someday." Neville winced and shook off the hurt feelings; hadn't he made them proud in the Ministry of Magic? "Now where's your Gran, huh?"  
  
Neville pointed into the next room. "She's taking care of the Weasley twins. All Hell broke loose within an hour of their arrival, and Gran's making them restore the furniture."  
  
Grinning about the antics of Neville's relatives, Harry shook his head. "Happy birthday, Neville."  
  
Sighing in exasperation, he nodded. "Happy birthday to me."  
  
\----------------------------------------  
  
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NEVILLE!" the entire house screamed in unison. Neville's friends and family gathered around his giant cake and waited impatiently as Great Uncle Algie handed him a knife. Neville cleanly sliced the top layer into four pieces of cake and slid them onto small plates.  
  
Ron bounced and quickly grabbed his own plate, not even waiting for Neville to bite into his slice. He loved his sweets. "This is good," he mumbled with his mouth full. "I should thank the house elves for this."  
  
"I normally do," Neville said as he swallowed his own bite. "Thank you for all of the presents; they were very thoughtful." Harry, Hermione, and Ron had each bought him a different magical plant. None of them was as valuable or rare as the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ Uncle Algie brought back with him, but Neville loved their meaning just as much; besides, Uncle Algie _always_ brought the best gift. One of him had done their research—Hermione, there was little doubt—and brought him one of his best gifts he received this year. Fred and George brought him several of their new products to test free. Bill and Charlie gave him an animated pendant of a Romanian Longhorn. Luna brought him a book about the existence and history of unknown and doubtful creatures, and Ginny bought him a book about exotic magical plants.  
  
His family did just as well, if not better, with their gifts. Gran had secretly orchestrated the house elves into making a garden area for Neville's use during the summer. She also bought him several exotic plants Neville looked up in the book Ginny gave him. Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid were in on it as well. Neville couldn't wait to get started on building his exotic garden; but alas, he had to wait. In addition to the plants, Uncle Algie gave him a Wizard's Wireless, which doubled as a clock, and Aunt Enid bought him a Foe-Glass.  
  
Now, Neville had exhausted himself with the day's festivities, and he was ready to sleep. "I'm going to sleep," he said, rubbing his eyes. He turned to Harry. "You can stay up and come to my room whenever you want, but good night."  
  
"You had a good time, though, right?"  
  
He grinned. "Of course, I did! It was terrific, but I tired myself out. I'll talk to you all tomorrow." Neville hurried up the stairs to his bedroom; he decided to lie in bed for a while. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the old gum-wrapper his mother had given him yesterday. "I love you, Mum and Dad." Neville pressed a kiss to the wrapper; then, he dropped it into a jar on his bedside table. "Good night, Mum."  
  
Neville could have almost sworn he heard her wishing him a happy birthday as he fell into sleep.


End file.
